#IR Blaster

[glamourslime]

I kind of wish cell phone design would shift focus away from having The World's Hugest And Best Camera. Like yeah it's nice to Have I guess but. Is the average user of the phone really going to bother with all that? So much of the physical real estate of the phones body is dedicated to having a giant camera. Even with the giant bump outs that every phone has now, I have to imagine that eats up a lot of space inside the phone too, which could maybe be used for other shit

And mostly I'm complaining because whenever I try to look at the reviews for phones, a lot of ink is getting wasted in dithering about "ohhhh but its camera is a little less good than the Cinemafucker 5000, 3.5 stars." When that's not what I'm trying to find out! Is the phone durable? Can it withstand being dropped daily by clumsy users? Will the charging port break faster than other models? Does it actually have any distinguishing features, or are the only differences just chipset minutiae? God forbid a review mention customizability

[bread-tab]

i'm trying to make an old DVD work on my PC using VLC media player and OMG. the technology nostalgia is hitting hard. and it's *weird.* i grew up installing everything from CDs (floppy disks were phasing out when i was learning to computer) and obviously there was no concept of an alternative at the time. the "cloud" wasn't a thing. and here i am fumbling my way back out of that cloud, leaning away from my PC tower as it loudly whirs at me... and this all transpires because i got a DVD player for free from a thrift store liquidation sale a few months back and. uhhh. forgot to look for a remote

[shamnadt]

Protium Smart Home - WiFi Universal Remote with Amazon Alexa Compatibility (IR Blaster, Black)

Price: (as of – Details) Voice Control: Compatible with Alexa and Google Home to voice control your TV, Air Conditioner.APP Control: Control IR appliances with Smartlife App anywhere anytime (Please use 2.4 GHz Wi-Fi). Set up timers to turn on/off appliances at a specific time or customize scenes with multiple devices. Turning your basic home devices into smart devices and making life smarter…

[rudrjobdesk]

OnePlus 11R Prototype Images Leaked Ahead of Launch, Hint at IR Blaster, Alert Slider: Report

OnePlus 11R Prototype Images Leaked Ahead of Launch, Hint at IR Blaster, Alert Slider: Report

OnePlus 11R could reportedly be equipped with an alert slider and an infrared blaster (IR) for remote controls. Newly leaked images of a OnePlus 11R’ prototype have given enthusiasts an insight on the upcoming smartphone’s camera island, display and more. The OnePlus 11 series will reportedly comprise two smartphones – the OnePlus 11 and OnePlus 11R. The phone is tipped to arrive with OnePlus’s…

[izzystizzys]

clone wars au where fives survives because fox is a disaster and people care about him (derogatory)

aka he hasn‘t slept in 72 hours and while every corrie understands why, that doesn’t mean they have to like it. plus, he already has borderline braindamage from not getting more than five hours’ sleep a night the whole duration of the war, and all the strange injuries and electrostaff burns he keeps showing up with, stabby the clone medic reasons. also bone density is a concern with the half-rations the guard is consistently on, so really this is all a very reasonable emergency measure, he says and cuffs fox to a cot.

yes of course, meathook and rabid nod, who pounced on the commander and pinned him for stabby and his sedation hypo the second he came through the door. very reasonable.

hnngfnhfjfj, fox grunts in the corner, already halfway to insensate. thorn, who knows better than to protest lest he become the next target of stabby’s ire, nods along while switching to fox’s armour.

which is also how palpatine gets himself caught, because of course ‘cc-1010’ activates exactly nothing in thorn’s brain except maybe alarm bells for rancid kriffing vibes, and by the time the chancellor orders him to switch off his blaster’s stun setting and terminate the ‘faulty unit’ at all costs, he’s already recording the interaction and sending it as an attachment to the whole guard command staff as well as the jedi temple.

[wildstreak]

Soundwave's passiveness when it comes to other's mistreatment of Ravage has become an object of discussion lately. Here are my two cents:

Perhaps it is my bias towards the magnificence that is Soundwave's superiority, but I argue that his lack of direct action to counter both Starscream and Shockwave when the mistreatment happens does not display a docility in Soundwave's character that is worth criticising.

For one, we know that Soundwave is very calculative. He acts only after consideration of every possible outcome and never on impulse.

Considering that Starscream clearly outranked Soundwave back then as well as Starscream's volatile temper, Starscream would have definitely considered it insubordination if Soundwave were to oppose him over something that does not obviously benefit the Decepticon cause; speaking up for Ravage would have been seen as more of a personal matter than a professional matter. Furthermore, although it would mean the revival of vital Decepticon personnel, it would also mean less resources for the larger Skywarp who has teleporting capabilities ("What?! You want to start with the smallest one?") in addition to a personal connection with Starscream. Thus, risking Starscream's ire for the alternative might have led to both Soundwave and Ravage sustaining even more injuries which would be the worst possible outcome in light of their lack of resources and Ravage's already severe comatose state. Therefore, knowing all this, Soundwave rightfully kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself until he was certain he would be able stand up for Ravage without repercussions i.e. when he himself took over the Decepticons as leader, such that no one else would be able to rebuke him for his decisions.

When Shockwave came into the picture, Soundwave fell back on his familiar position as a follower, placing Shockwave in charge. Although there was no official transfer of leadership, it is easy to see that Shockwave outranks Soundwave since his arrival to Earth from his commanding and decision-making attitude towards Soundwave and the sudden reduction in Soundwave's initiatives (he no longer has plans of his own). One could even argue that Soundwave took so long to overthrow Starscream because of his preference to follow rather than lead, as evident in his utter lack of leadership opportunities in other continuities. One could also argue that he contacted Shockwave so quickly to rid himself of the mantle of leadership and pass it to someone else. With Shockwave's rank in mind, when he threatens to toss Ravage into the incinerator, Soundwave is once again put into the difficult position of choosing between Ravage and his superior. Naturally, he is bound to hesitate; he wouldn't outright pull a blaster on Shockwave, who also happens to be his "brother" in arms. Soundwave isn't going to rip out Shockwave's singular optic like he did to Starscream.

However, it is worth noting Soundwave's body language. When Shockwave first grabs Ravage, Soundwave's shock and some indignance can be interpreted from his braced position (bent legs, partially raised arms, awkward head position as if surprised). The unexpected callousness of his "brother" could have contributed to his hesitation. Additionally, instead of depicting him standing obediently aside to allow Shockwave to do as he pleased, this reaction demonstrates Soundwave's displeasure and disagreement with Shockwave's behaviour. This is not a subservient subordinate allowing himself and his team to be walked all over, this is a soldier that is so respectful and logical to a fault also momentarily caught off guard.

Following that, in the subsequent panel, Soundwave's arm is outstretched, as if he is reaching out to Shockwave to stop him. Of course, he doesn't, because Shockwave is now his superior, but you can almost here the frantic scramble of incoherent protests that might have stumbled out of Soundwave's vocaliser if he was any less disciplined of a bot. Therefore, I assert that Soundwave would have loved to protest against the mistreatment of Ravage. However, he is held back by his obligation as a member of the Decepticons rather than their leader as well as his comprehensive considerations for the best course of action.

Simply put, to criticise Soundwave for being passive without considering the difficult situation his faces and the complicated background behind it lacks the nuance that would justify his behaviour. That being said, one could certainly go down to the root of the issue which is Soundwave's preference for being a follower and his lack of daring, which I believe is a far more valid argument.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Marching on

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets yelled at, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

“Quicken that pace battalion, this isn't some training course on Kamino!” 

If you had to hear one more fucking command from Krell, you may just inject him with all the painkillers in your pack.

It’s been almost 4 hours of his self-importance. You were patient, but by all the gods in existence you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Fives scoffed next to you, “The uh…new General has a way with words.” His tone was directed at Rex, who had wanted you at the front of the march with him. 

His reasoning for such a formation? ‘Keep an eye on the supplies’. In reality? ‘to protect you.’

The clone captain looked to the ARC trooper, “He's just trying to keep us on schedule.”

“By raising everyone’s ire?” You leaned forward slightly to look over at your lover. You didn’t mean to give him any grief, but it was a good question. Just what was Krell hoping to achieve by annoying everyone?

“Either way he's in charge, and we got a job to do.” Rex responded taking your question in stride, “Treat him with respect and we'll all get along fine.”

You sighed, “As long as that respect is mutual.”

“You know we don’t always get that luxury.” The captain looked at you. You could practically feel his disapproving gaze through his visor.

You backed down, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already was, “I know…I know…just…” With another sigh, you gave him a soft smile, “Just want to keep you and everyone else safe.”

“Especially me?” Fives chimed in, a smirk clear in his voice. 

You snorted, “Yes Fives, especially you.”

Rex let out a soft laugh, “That’s enough chatter. We need to focus.” 

“Speaking of.” The ARC trooper nudged the captain and pointed upward, “Do you see that?”

In the distance, two glowing…beasts were flying directly towards your battalion. They had impressive speed as they descended quickly. Their bodies were triangular, with bioluminescent under bellies and spiked tails.

“Yea, ready your weapons!” Rex commanded, pulling his pistols. The other troopers followed his lead. The barrage of blaster fire began as soon as one of them swooped, yanking an ARF trooper, Jock, from his AT-RT. It turned sharply and let go, slamming the clone downward into the ground.

You heard the crack through the blasters.

The second dove and grabbed a trooper behind you. He cried out in pain and fear as it flew upward again, taking him from the ground. The shots continued and you got up from the speeder to tend to the down ARF trooper. 

You didn’t make it far, as the first glowing beast made a second swoop aiming for you. Jesse, to his credit, did a wonderful job of protecting you by tackling you to the ground for the second time in a rotation, “Oh no you don’t!” He growled, aiming his gun upward and firing. 

The bioluminescent creature dodged every shot and made another turn, lifting upward to make another pass. 

“Thanks, second time you saved me.” You nodded to him, getting up and rushing to Jock. His leg was broken, fibula stabbing through broken plastoid. Immediately you administered painkillers. This poor man was probably in agony.

Krell had quickly disposed of the second. The Jedi had leapt upward and ripped the beast's claws open, dropping the other trooper. His size and weight worked to the advantage as the animal couldn’t lift. 

The two of them hit the ground where the besalisk stabbed both his lightsabers through its torso. It died with a high pitched screech before Krell sliced the last one as it tried to swoop, bringing it down as well. 

Rex and Fives kept their guns pointed at the beast, but the new General shouted, “anyone else want to stop and play with the animals!?” He punctuated his point by driving his foot down on the creature's body. It jerked before going still, “Didn’t think so. Now keep moving!”

You huffed, turning back to the soldier, “I got you.” Your voice was kind and soft, “I’m not going anywhere, OK?”

He nodded, gloved hands trembling and gripping his thigh. Even with the painkillers, you knew he must’ve been feeling like absolute hell. 

“Jesse,” You looked up at the senior trooper, “Can you get the speeder please?” The soldier needed surgery, but you couldn’t do it here. Not in the open. 

He saluted and quickly stepped away. 

“How bad?” Kix asked, pulling off his pack and kneeling next to you. He remained calm, despite the earlier excitement, “Damn, Jock. Don’t worry. We got you.”

“We are moving!” Krell shouted somewhere behind you. 

“Give us a few minutes!” you snapped, not looking up as you worked. “Help me stabilize the leg, I can't fix it here.”

“We have bacta and medication to deal with any infections later.” the medic beside you nodded, “Get a splint in place.”

“North, take his AT-RT,” You heard Fives’ command the ARF trooper you treated earlier. As soon as the ARC troopers words were spoken, North had gotten up from the stretcher as Jesse approached with the speeder. While you would have preferred him to rest, that currently wasn’t an option. Thankfully, he was at least conscious enough to operate a vehicle. 

Plus, leaving behind a perfectly functional and even devastating weapon in the hands of the enemy was a very bad idea.

Jock was trembling. Pain and shock from staring at his broken leg most likely. Even hardened soldiers would panic at the sight of one of their bones stabbing outside of their body, “Hey Jock, don’t worry. We got you, ok?” You shifted slightly, lowering your face so he’d pay attention to you and not his wound.

“Troopers!” 

“Can you not fucking see-!” a heavy hand yanked you back and to your feet. You stumbled, but kept upright. 

Krell was glaring at you, a fire of wrath in his eyes,“I told you, we. are. Moving! Do not ignore a direct order!” 

Now it was your turn to be enraged, “Respectfully, General, my priority is to the wellbeing of this army. It is my duty as a field doctor to help them when they’re injured. Surely as a jedi you understand the importance of duty.” You kept your eyes on him, refusing to look away. 

Arguing with your General normally wasn’t an option. However, in your training it was emphasized that your rank as a medic held special privileges, such as ignoring orders that may inhibit you from caring for the wounded.

But something told you that the Jedi in front of you didn’t really care.

You didn’t see how Hardcase held Rexs’ arm, doing his best to keep the captain from making a grave mistake. He was normally able to think clearly and not let his emotions dictate his decisions. Unless it came to you. The one he loved so dearly.

The new General huffed and straightened his back, “You have 60 seconds to get him stabilized and loaded on to the stretcher,” He clasped his arms behind him again and began to walk to the front, he turned his head back at you, “Next time, I will not stand for such insubordination, because it is my duty to lead these troops so the Republic can take the capital of this planet.” 

You swallowed and saluted, turning back to Jock. With the help of Kix and Jesse, the injured trooper was situated on the stretcher. You gave him another dose of painkillers and let him drift off to sleep. 

“You can tell the General we had 20 seconds to spare.” You grumbled to Fives, getting back on your speeder. Within minutes a formation was established again. Your pace was with the men, staying behind Rex, Fives and Krell. 

“Are you ok?” Kix asked as he walked next to you. 

“Yes.” You rubbed your face in your hand, ignoring the small sting of the blaster burn to your cheek. You still hadn’t dealt with it yet. 

Your medic friend patted your back in sympathy. He shared your frustrations. 

Anakin would never have pulled you away from tending to the injured. He would have knelt down and helped you, or had his lightsabers ready to protect you. His padawan would have done the same, perhaps even go after whoever injured the trooper to begin with. 

But Anakin wasn’t here. Neither was Ahsoka. Instead, you were stuck with Pong fucking Krell. 

About an hour later Rex had slowed his pace to walk next to you, “Mesh’la.” He spoke softly, making sure no one else could hear, “You haven’t dealt with the cut on your cheek.” 

Oh. Right, you keep forgetting about it. 

“It’s alright.” You gave him a small smile, “the men are going to need all the bacta they can get. A tiny scratch like this doesn’t matter.” 

He remained silent for a moment before shaking his head, “Please be careful, the men need you.” His words hid the true meaning, from everyone except you. 

I need you. 

“I am, Captain.” You answered, “You just promise me you’ll stay alive to lead us.” 

Please don’t become one of the injured I have to treat. 

“I promise.” His hand twitched. He wanted so badly to cup your injured cheek and kiss it better. But not right now. Not around others. Not in such a hostile place.

“Captain Rex.” Your voice became quieter, “Ner kar’ta.” 

“Ner narser.” He whispered back before straightening up. Your lover became the captain again, needing to focus on the mission at hand. Still, to hide your relationship, he spoke slightly louder, letting others hear, “you can’t disobey orders again, understood?” 

You nodded, “yes, Captain. It won’t happen again,” Subtly, you gave him a smile. 

He returned to his position closer to Krell after that. However, occasionally he’d cast a quick glance back at you. 

After about an hour, you heard some whispered chatter behind you. Looking back, you noticed a trooper, Oz, leaning against Tup and limping. You gave him a look of confusion and slowed the speeder to get next to them.

“It's nothing to worry about, Doc.” Oz informed you, “Just…probably twisted my ankle when that beast dropped me.” It was a clear lie. From your perspective it looked more like something had fractured in his knee.

Your gaze drifted to Jock, soundly knocked out on the stretcher. Why are so many soldiers getting leg injuries? 

“Regardless, we can’t know the true extent unless I get a proper look.” your gaze drifted to Krell. The bastard would flip out if he knew you stopped again. Still, Oz needed to get off that leg, “Take the speeder.”

“Doc?”

“You’ve used one right? It's easy.” You slipped off of the vehicle and pushed it along before Oz or anyone could argue, “Take it, at least to rest the ankle.” 

He paused but Tup pulled him slightly, “Come on, doctor's orders.” 

Without much more fuss, the injured trooper did as you directed. He sat down and let out a small sigh of relief, “Thank you.” clearly he hid his pain behind soldier bravado.

You nodded, deciding to walk next to Tup for now. Your eyes went to North, making sure he seemed alert and aware. For now, the ARF trooper was recovering from his wounds well, getting some weight off your shoulders. Still, everyone needed a breather. It's been about five hours since they started marching and while clones had stellar endurance, they would need a break at some point.

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on the backs of those in front of you. It was a few hours later when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Are you ok, Doc?” Tup asked you quietly. 

You couldn’t hide the irritation in your voice, “You are the second person to ask me that within the last few hours. Do I not look ok?” He seemed startled at your response and you honestly felt bad. Poor Tup was barely a shiny, so you sighed and nodded, “Just thinking, Tup. I'm alright.” 

Before he could respond, Hardcase draped his arm over your shoulder, “Hey Doc, I got a cut on my lip. Can you kiss it to make it better?”

You snorted, repressing your laugh. Sometimes the soldiers would flirt and joke, all in good fun. Hardcase was especially friendly, knowing went to chime in to lift the mood. Honestly, you appreciated it. 

Tup looked downright offended on your behalf, “Hardcase!” 

Jesse looked back from his position. Even under the helmet you knew he was looking confused. 

“Whatever happens next, I am not a part of it.” you responded with a shrug, looking ahead. 

“See? The doc doesn’t care, ease up.” Now the hyperactive trooper moved on to leaning against Tup. the two bickered quietly as you continued to walk. However, over time their voices died down.

It was around the 12th hour when you realized the silence was from exhaustion. Everyone, including you, was barely hanging on by a thread. The clone endurance you praised earlier had finally hit its limit.

“Kix,” You stepped up next to him, “Tell Captain Rex that we need a break.” your voice was a hushed whisper. You feared if Krell heard you make the request, he’d push the men even harder out of spite. 

The medic agreed with you and sped up his pace to speak to Rex. You, however, fell back next to the medical speeder and checked on the injured. Oz had been doing a good job at controlling the thing, though you could tell his leg was still bothering him. Jock was still out cold, you and Kix periodically checked to make sure he didn’t wake up in agony. North remained coherent and aware as well, he piloted the AT-RT as if he had never been injured, indicating the bacta you’d given him was working well. 

Your observations came to a halt as Krell’s voice pierced the air, “CT-7567 are you reading me?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Your secret lover sounded as confused as everyone was feeling. 

The jedi continued, “I ask you a question, CT-7567 do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?” Blessedly, he stopped to continue to yell at Rex. Despite how you felt at your lover being targeted so viciously, at least the men had something of a breather. And Rex was a man, he could take an angry General. 

The clone captain shook his head, trying to reason, “Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile, despite the difficulty of the conditions the battalion is making good time. These men just need a little break.” It was a desperate attempt to get some kind of humanity out of the besalisk. 

The General practically snarled and continued his verbal assault, “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet?” He motioned over all the soldiers behind him, “Look back, see those platoons? Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly, time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford!” Krell didn’t give up just yet, leaning forward an inch away from the captain's face, “The other battalions are counting on our support, if we fail everyone fails. Do you understand this? Does everyone understand this?!” His yelling was now directed at everyone around him. His critical gaze roamed over the battalion practically challenging anyone to speak up.

When there was only silence, he scoffed and turned, continuing his steps, “Now move on!”

Rex’s shoulders slumped slightly, but quickly, he returned to his stiff and professional posture. With a glance back and a nod, the 501st began to march again.

You shared a look with Hardcase and continued. It was going to be another long few hours of exhausted silence before you stopped again.

[ikkosu]

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chaptered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig. lovely headers by @cafekitsune

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

PHARMA doesn’t know what to say.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

YOU scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

PHARMA doesn’t want to open the door.

"Will do, doc bot."

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

THE tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

[churino]

Design for Soundwave ! This version of him is massive. He's now so big that his cassetes are regular bot sized

Soundwave is a native of gigantion, surprisingly the home of things big AND small. He grew up as an autobot alongside his friend turned enemy the autobot blaster, back in the day they both pursued the dream of making it big as musical artists on one of gigantion's biggest cities,

that was until a decepticon political movement began growing in power on gigantion. Blaster oposed it, but soundwave was convinced by senator Ratbat, and the two fell out of love with each other,

but not before attempting to advance their carrers, the two pursued the autobot minicon wheelie, said to have special "rhyming powers" that he was able to teach them, larger and more powerful than wheelie and blaster combined, soundwave was coerced into using his power to claim gigantion for the decepticons, as a reward, they changed their emblem to be based on his face, soundwave became akin to a captain america for the decepticons, an incredible icon second only to their mythical leader megatron. The perfect decepticon

His fame earned him allies in his personal spy patrol, but earned blaster's ire, who promptly left gigantion to gather autobots that can challenge soundwave's musical supremacy, knowing his possible threat, soundwave is following blaster to make sure he's delt with, eventually they make their way to earth where things escalate further.

His engines are actually speakers, which means he doesn't actually propel himself to fly, it's legitimately just lazerbeak and buzzsaw just being strong enough to lift him from inside

[puppetmaster13u]

Well

I am thinking of another Batfam Transformers Au. Specifically one including the cassette carriers in design liklike Soundwave and Blaster.

I am sure one can understand where I am going with this lol.

Not exactly huge but still pretty big Bruce. Antenna mimicking the bat cowl ears, maybe transforms into a drone or even the batmobile, but honestly could be anything. Maybe he's a bat ir bat dragon lol.

BUT ANYWAy-

This brings me to the batkids. The more human sized cybertronians. Who can become cassettes or the equivalent. I am sure someone on here remembers the original animated series. There's some really fun stuff lol.

Now we know from Transformers Prime and practically every other series that cybertronians can in fact change their paint job and even reverse the colors. So they all can start the robin colors still, or rather go from a default gray to their robin colors to whatever else.

They're like Bruce's sparklings! Little babies/children whose pods crashed onto earth after his. Yes, Bruce pulled a clark and crashed into the Wayne's backyard. Only he was technically already a teen. Because we know it would take Way longer for a cybertronian to grow up than a human lol. But that's where Bruce's human name comes from!

Now, will I be including holoforms? Good question, I just had this idea while rewatchin the first season of the animated series, and would actually appreciate other people's ideas or thought lol

[imogenkol]

— UNRAVELED

pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen words: 1.3k rating: mature warnings: mentions of child murder tags: angst, break-up

READ IT ON AO3

summary: Imogen thought the darkest parts of her past were bared and accepted by the only person she ever grew to love. But there was still one stone left unturned — one mission she had not thought about in many years — and it may be the catalyst she always feared

note: this is a collaborative one-shot with the extremely talented @e-the-village-cryptid who provided the Bix parts (and also the title) <3

Imogen entered to an immediate and palpable tension lingering in the air like an invisible mist. Bix sat at her makeshift workbench, tinkering with scrap to keep her hands busy, but there was a distinct unrest to her movements that Imogen noted — the mechanic’s shoulders were stiff and her jaw set in a firm line. The tension grew thicker the closer Imogen approached, like a noose becoming taut, and it stopped her short. “What is it?” Imogen carefully asked.

Bix didn't respond, but the tidal wave of emotion that hit Imogen through the Force almost knocked her a step back. Grief, rage, terror, more she couldn't even name. She'd been hit with these surges before—days when bad news arrived from Ferrix, nights when Bix would suddenly jolt awake, breathing hard, fighting a battle she was not privy to—but not like this. Something was different this time.

“Bix,” Imogen gently called with more insistence, and reached out. As soon as the tips of her fingers made contact, Bix flinched away from her. 

“Don’t touch me,” she commanded, her tone a mixture of sharp fury and heavy sadness. 

It was then that Imogen realized she was somehow the source of conflict in Bix’s warring mind tonight, though she could scarcely reason why. Still, Imogen retreated from her lover obediently as her brows knitted together. She waited for an explanation.

"Utapau Moon. 3642 ATC. Unidentified girl, age 7-9. Unidentified boy, age 4-6," Bix recited. Her tone was level, almost monotone. But when she raised her eyes to meet Imogen's, they were dark and shining with grief.

Imogen went utterly still. She could hear the low hum of her lightsaber — see its deep crimson light reflected in the watery eyes of the young girl as she feebly placed herself between Imogen and the frightened little boy behind her. The screams of their parents outside of the hut echoed in her ears, even after they were cut short by blaster fire. 

Imogen felt very little sense of pride or accomplishment that night. There was no sport in killing children, but at the time she had been sent to complete a task to the best of her abilities and judgment. And so she did. Force sensitives at that age were of no use to her and would have been seen as a threat to the Emperor. They were better off eliminated. It was a mercy, really. 

Not that Bix saw it that way. It only took a brief moment of thought to piece together exactly how she came to know of this, and Imogen felt ire replace the hot flush of guilt in her gut. 

“It seems Cassian has been entertaining himself with pointless research and sharing his findings.”

Parts crashed to the floor as Bix stood abruptly, her chair toppling backwards, rounding on Imogen in white hot rage. "You think this is about CASSIAN—" Bix cut herself off, eyes flashing from fury to disbelief to betrayal to something new, looking at Imogen as if she'd only just seen her for the first time. She stilled. 

"You do, don’t you?" Bix's voice was suddenly quiet, her eyes boring into Imogen's with a strange expression Imogen had never seen before. Bix took a step forward. "Remembering— that— and all you can think about is Cassian." Another step. And belatedly, Imogen recognized the look in her eyes, in the disgusted turn of her nose, in the curl of her lip. 

Contempt. 

Bix, standing before her, staring at her like she'd never seen such a despicable sight.

That look cut Imogen deeper than any blade could have, but she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and clenched her fists as if her own rage were something tangible to grasp onto and wield like the hilt attached to her belt. 

“What do you want from me?” She snapped coldly. “To grovel at your feet and weep for those children? To tell you that if I could go back and change their fate, I would?” She shook her head and scoffed at the ridiculous notion — at the position she found herself in when she had tried so hard to get Bix to see what she was before. Imogen believed they were well past that acceptance, but it is always the blow you don’t see coming that hurts the most. 

Imogen continued “Even if I wished to, nothing will change the past. Remorse is as useless and cumbersome as an anvil tied to my ankle. So, yes, forgive me if I find myself irritated that Cassian once again feels the need to drive a wedge between us!”

Bix scoffed disbelievingly, blinking rapidly as if she could conceal the sheen of tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I do want you to grieve them. I want you—" She broke off, searching Imogen's gaze for something that wasn't there. The disgust returned to her expression as she broke the eye contact. "You can’t understand that? You can’t understand that Cassian just wants to protect me— to warn me about— about the kind of monster—"

“And you knew already,” Imogen interjected, struggling to keep her tone level. Her chest tightened at that last word. Monster. Imogen was very familiar with that word. She had been addressed as such more often than her own name at times, but to hear it come from the lips of her lover made the next few heaving breaths out of her lungs painful. “You have known what I am from the start, I never pretended to be anything else. Do not act shocked when you hear the details.”

"I didn’t know about the children," Bix said quietly. All the fight seemed to have drained from her body. She began collecting the parts strewn across the floor, reorganizing her table with shaking hands. "The rest of the cell will see the document tomorrow. You should be far away from here by then."

Bix knocked all the air out of Imogen’s lungs with that last sentence. She swayed on weak knees, opening and closing her mouth as a cacophony of panicked thoughts stormed in her mind. 

She wanted to beg. What can I do to fix this? Please tell me how I can fix this. I will atone for those murders in any way you ask of me. I cannot lose you this way. 

She wanted to threaten her. How dare you? I will not run. I will not be sent away like some disciplined dog. I will kill them all if they attempt to arrest me. Then you will see what a monster I truly am. 

Yet, Imogen had no fight left in her either… She simply stood there, numb and lost as Bix refused to look at her again. 

“So, this is what you want?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"No," Bix replied flatly. She turned to face her again, eyes blank, mouth set in a hard line. "Nothing about this is what I want."

They stood a moment, facing one another. The space between them was so hollow that it ached, the familiar threads of tension that once bound them lying loose in tatters on the floor. Then Bix turned and passed the threshold into the back room, closing the door behind her. She did not look back.

Imogen nearly ran after her, not understanding how it could all have fallen apart so swiftly in her hands like dust. A large part of her refused to accept the finality of her beloved’s exit. Bix felt so vital to her and Imogen had been so consumed by the dozens of different ways she might be ripped out of her life, but had not considered this — what her chosen absence would feel like — until now. 

It felt like the light of the galaxy dimmed around her, sucking her back into the emptiness that was once her home. 

Where else would a monster belong besides darkness? 

Without another word, Imogen unclipped the lightsaber from her belt and let it slip from her hand. It clattered onto the floor and she stared at it with the same emptiness as the void roiling within her before she turned and left the room altogether.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @socially-awkward-skeleton @neonshrike @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @buggknife @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @d-esmond @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @strangefable @statichvm @kanos @cptcassian @euryalex @auricfog

[mychlapci]

. https://www.tumblr.com/mychlapci/761584986446020608/ok-someone-send-me-requests-to-write-i-will?source=share hi can. can i get…. starscream wetting himself.. (whether its old man incontinence, him purposely doing it for fetish purposes, his partner making him do it, mechs bullying him into nervous wetting, etc etc i dont mind… i just really really want fancy, pretty boy Starscream with his waste pouring down his legs like he's some untrained sparkling,,)

here. it's actually kind of funny when you think about it.

Starscream never had these issues on the Nemesis, not in millions of years of commanding his army, it must be this diluted energon he has to drink to save up his fuel that causes him to limp quickly out of any scene of the crime. All that unnecessary fluid added in only flies through him, filling his waste tank to the brim while he’s still in the middle of something.

He was never the sneakiest of bots, but to leave a trail of waste fluid behind himself as he flees the autobots’ or the decepticons’ ire is truly a low point. He could almost feel it sloshing around inside of him, every step was agony as his abdomen folded on itself and pressure slammed into his waste tank.

„Why does it all have to happen to me!” Starscream whined as his legs buckled, saving the growl in the back of his throat for later. Now he had to get as far away from the gunfire as possible. He already had a shard of energon in his hands, and whatever they were shooting at each other over was not worth the humiliation of wetting himself in front of prying optics. He could always come back after he’d relieved himself.

As he made his way down further into the cave system, wings flickering nervously, Starscream released that growl. He clutched the shard of energon with both hands while he squeezed his thighs close. He started to eye an empty, blissfully unoccupied corner of the cave where he could possibly kneel and relieve himself, when he suddenly registered the sound of blasters powering up.

Starscream flipped around to see four vehicons pointing their weapons at him. He shrieked „You! You, how dare you point your blasters at me!”

He felt his body seize up in shock, and a pressure pulsed uncomfortably hard against his waste port, a little trickle dribbled down into his panels „I don’t have the time for this!”

The soldiers briefly exchanged a look, shrugging at each other, but they didn’t lower their guns. Two of them stepped closer, and as Starscream clenched to try and keep it together, tried to keep it inside, his frame decided it’s had enough, and responded to the sight of a powering weapon by releasing the seal of his waste tank at once „Wait– Wait!"

Waste fluid splattered down between his legs, and Starscream gasped, irritated wings suddenly flopping down to point to the ground. It actually stopped the soldiers in their tracks, and they watched seemingly emotionlessly as a hot puddle formed underneath Starscream’s pedes, until of course, one of them laughed, and then the others followed, visors blinking the entire time.

Starscream’s whole frame felt hot with rage and slack with relief, he didn’t know which one to pay attention to first. His valve was soaked behind his panel, the seams of his modesty cover swollen and outdented as the loud stream of piss continued to push through.

They continued to laugh. They were laughing at him! For wetting himself in fear like an unruly sparkling, their own commander. Starscream must have looked ridiculous, pigeon toed and panting by the time his waste tank had emptied completely, standing in a steamy puddle of his own filth.

Thankfully, they were suddenly distracted by a message incoming through the commlink, and Starscream fled with his thighs still wet, miraculously dodging their poorly aimed blaster fire. At least running is easier now.

(author's note:

> be me

> vehicon but don't let it get to me

> hold rogue commander at gunpoint

> he pisses himself in front of us all

> runs away without a word

> fml)

[fushiglow]

ily glo 😚😚😚😚😚💕💞💕💘💕💓💕💕💓💘💕💓💕💕💓💓💕💓💕💓💞💓💕💓💕💞💘

ILY MORE 🫵 i thought i had followed you last night!! as an apology, take this EXTRA SPECIAL TREAT just for you 💫

Getō clicked his tongue. ‘I have no intention of arguing with you.’ ‘And I have no intention of fighting you, so where does that leave us?’ Master Gojō grinned, extending a palm towards the darksider and beckoning for the holocron with a crook of his fingers. ‘Hand it over, Suguru.’ Suguru? If Megumi had been entirely discombobulated by that, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. The darksider’s lips quirked and, when he spoke again, his voice was so disgustingly soft and so disgustingly fond that Megumi couldn’t reconcile it with the hulking shadow of a man before him. ‘Always so demanding, Satoru.’ Suddenly, the rumours about Master Gojō started to make more sense. In the shock of it all, Megumi somehow found his voice. ‘Wait, you two—’ Two pairs of eyes landed on the Padawan and Megumi suddenly realised that the attention of what were almost certainly the two most powerful force users in the galaxy was entirely on him. He squirmed, voice faltering slightly when he found the courage to finish his question. ‘You two know each other?’ ‘We know each other,’ Master Gojō replied simply — but his lips twitched at the same time Getō looked away with an honest to stars blush on his cheeks. Between the pair of them, it was all too suspicious for Megumi not to narrow his eyes. ‘Know each other how?’ The look the two men exchanged spoke volumes — and Megumi’s fear evaporated like morning dew on Yavin IV. ‘Oh, for kriff’s sake,’ he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose hard enough to break it. There was no point trying to reason with a darksider, so he directed his ire at Master Gojō instead. ‘That’s a serious violation of the Jedi code!’ There is no passion, there is serenity. He repeated it like a chant in his mind — because the shit-eating grin the Jedi Master shot his way made Megumi want to take out his blaster. ‘You gonna tell on me, Megumi?

[shamnadt]

BroadLink Smart Home Hub-WiFi Remote Control IR Blaster for Smart Life Home Automation, TV Remote, Compatible with Alexa, Google Home, IFTTT (RM4 Mini)

Price: (as of – Details) 【HIGH COMPATIBILITY】: BroadLink RM4 mini Wi-Fi smart hub supports 50,000+ IR controlled devices with full integration of home entertainment and electric appliances, such as TV, STB, Video Recorder, DVD, Presenter Remote, Home Theater/Sound Bar/Home Stereo control, Air Conditioner, Fan, etc. Supported IR library is constantly being updated by the cloud to ensure newer…

[regexkind]

Hiding a combination IR blaster and cloudflared-tunneled Raspberry Pi in your bathroom and activating the bidet remotely at odd hours

[melishade]

Number 6 or 15, about Megs and OP let everything off their chest at Megs death in Shockwave Timeline ending ? Pick that you think the best one

This ask game

For context: Part 28: Ending and Dark Timeline Epilogue

TW Death. TW Decapitated Head. TW Blood (Or Energon)

Megatron was distracted for only a moment. He had heard the sounds of the predacon crying out, forcing Shockwave and him to stop fighting. They had both watched the predacon falling from the sky before crashing into the ground, Wheeljack and Arcee being thrown off the creature. The insect like creature that Shockwave had managed to muster disappeared into steam from existence. Finally, all the titans and titan shifters had been turned back into humans.

He should be elated. The power of the titans was no more, but confusion clouded his mind. How did this happen? What was the cause? What-?!

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Megatron felt searing, hot, white, pain at the sensation of blaster fire from a cannon tearing through his abdomen. Megatron could feel dark energon already leaking from his body as he cried out in pain and fell onto his back. He was distracted for only a moment, and he was now going to pay the price.

"How?! HOW DID YOU DO IT?!" Shockwave shouted at him, looming over his body. Megatron never expected to see this kind of emotion from Shockwave ever again, "You had nothing! No plan! No proper tools! I had everything! I had all the proper tools and schematics! Yet you ended the power of the titans! How?!"

Megatron winced as his optics scanned the battlefield. Shockwave had a point. They had no real plan besides getting Eren and Zeke back. They were still in the dark about how the power of the titan operated. How did that power disappear in the first place? Through the steam and the panic and confusion of the humans running around, Megatron spotted it. He spotted the sight of Mikasa on her knees, holding something to her chest with a look of sorrow in her eyes. Tears streamed down her face before she shut her eyes. Megatron's optics realized that in her grasp...

...was Eren's decapitated head. His head was cut clean from his body. Eren's eyes were closed, and he could see just a small expression of peace. The body of the now dead titan shifter was slowly turning to dust, but he was surprised to see that the head still remained. Megatron...felt bitterness. He felt an ache. He felt loss. But...the sight of Mikasa grieving over Eren could only mean one thing. And that one thing...oh Primus that one thing was the most ironic and twisted joke of all.

Megatron couldn't help it; he started laughing bitterly, and that laughing invoked Shockwave's ire.

"What's so amusing?!" Shockwave demanded.

"Love," Megatron answered him with the biggest bitter grin he could muster, "It was love. The most illogical, unreasonable, emotion out there, that helped us defeat you."

If Shockwave wasn't angry before, he was definitely in a state of fury right now. Megatron prepared for death as Shockwave charged his cannon once more, but the former warlord let out a quiet gasp as Optimus decapitated the mad scientist from behind. Optimus didn't even bother to check the kill or wait until the body hit the ground. After he made his killing blow, he ran towards Megatron.

"Megatron!" Optimus cried out as he kneeled down and examined his wounds. Optimus was horrified. His abdomen was torn to shreds! Dark energon was leaking out of him! He was certain Megatron's spine was destroyed!

"Stay awake! Stay with me! I'm going to get you help! I-!" Optimus scanned the battlefield, but...he couldn't think of anything. The neutral ship didn't prepare a groundbridge in time, and they would have to review Shockwave's schematics before making a jump. Optimus couldn't carry Megatron on his own; he was already weak from his own fight! Wheeljack and Arcee were trying to support each other! They couldn't drag him onto the Jackhammer without causing more damage to his body! And all the titan shifters have just lost their powers! Where was Eren?! Why was Armin running to Mikasa in distress?! What could he do?! What was he supposed to do?!

"I need a medic!" Optimus cried out in desperation, "Please!"

"Optimus, don't bother," Megatron told him weakly, coughing up energon in the process, "Who would be willing to save someone as worthless as me?"

"Megatron you're not worthless! You helped stop Shockwave-!"

"Who caused him to be like this?" Megatron asked rhetorically, "Optimus...it's too late for me. Leave me be. The others...Eren is-!"

"Let me fix this, brother please!" Optimus begged.

Megatron was surprised at Optimus' plea and smiled sadly. "The one thing I stayed on this world for was you. For your acceptance and forgiveness. But this world has changed me, and now..."

Megatron could still feel the loss of dark energon from his body continue. His internal systems were screaming at him, but he ignored it. "All I've done is just hurt you with my selfishness all over again."

Optimus hated how his instincts were telling him of the now hopeless situation. There was too much energon loss. He was going to die, and...

"I've been selfish as well," Optimus confessed, "I never killed you...because I hoped...you would come to your senses...and we could go back to Maccadam's like we used to. And that hope, that selfishness that slowly died over time, never truly went away, and that got many others killed."

"...And I took advantage of that kindness," Megatron relented, "My mistakes are not your fault."

Optimus blinked in surprise as he felt lubricant come out of his optics and tears stream down his faceplates.

"They never were," Megatron reassured.

"Megatron." Optimus grabbed his clawed and bloodied servo with both of his, "I just got you back. Please. Please don't leave me brother. Please."

"It's not a choice I can give." Megatron felt his words beginning to slur. He felt lubricant slip out of his optics as his vision began to fade. He had no idea what was going to happen. He was truly scared. He was going to die like this. He didn't want to die now, but...there was no choice.

"Thank...you...bro...th..." Optimus gasped in horror when he felt Megatron's body go limp. His servo slipped out of his grasp and fell limply on the floor. Optimus looked to Megatron's faceplates, but the life was gone. There were remnants of lubricant around the corner of his now lifeless optics. But the former warlord...looked so at peace.

"Megatron! Megatron wake up! Please wake up! Megatron!" Optimus screamed at Megatron. Everyone else who was still alive converged onto the scene before them. Wheeljack and Arcee were supporting each other while Hanji was helping Levi stand on his feet. The Ackerman was bloodied and bruised everywhere, the extent of his injuries unknown. Even though Hanji was free from the being a pure titan, the Commander's right eye had not healed at all.

"Chief," Wheeljack mumbled.

"Megatron, wake up!" Optimus slammed his fist into Megatron's chest, but noticed something dreadful. His chest was still glowing purple. Megatron was dead...and Unicron might still have him. No! NO! Unicron was not going to keep him! Not while his still functioned! Optimus pulled out his sword and rammed it into Megatron's chest, shocking everyone. The sword didn’t pierced all the way through Megatron’s armor, so he tried again and again.

“Prime! Prime what the fuck are you doing?! Stop!” Levi screamed at him. But the Titan refused. Optimus continued to cut through Megatron’s armor until the cut was large enough. He used his servos and pulled apart the armor, revealing Megatron’s spark and the dark energon shard. Optimus roared as he ripped the dark energon shard from Megatron’s spark . He threw the crushed object aside before taking out his blaster and firing at it until it turned to dust.

Optimus looked back at Megatron’s corpse, hoping the damn thing would restart, but…it was damaged beyond repair now. Megatron was gone from him. He lost his brother, and he could do nothing else for him now.

Optimus let his tears flow freely as he cried out in sorrow. He sobbed over Megatron’s tattered chest, completely inconsolable. And the others could only watch the Prime’s mental breakdown.

“Why…why would he do that?” Sasha asked Hanji.

“…To save Megatron’s soul,” Hanji realized.

‘This world is cruel,’ Mikasa thought as Optimus was wrecked with grief. She still cradled Eren’s head to her chest. She wasn’t sure…how Optimus would react to hearing both of them dead. She didn’t have the courage to stay for that. She…she wanted to go home.

Armin still cried next to Mikasa when the Ackerman stood up. “M-Mikasa?”

“I’m going to take Eren home,” Mikasa informed him. “There should still be an active port somewhere.”

“Where…where will you bury him?” Armin asked.

“At the spot he loved to nap under,” Mikasa answered as she walked away from him into the fog, un clipping her 3D gear in the process. She didn’t need it anymore.

“Yeah…he’d love that.” She smiled at Armin’s last words to her before noticing someone in front of her. A woman with blonde hair and gray eyes and a white dress, staring act her with indifference and remorse. She had nothing to say to her. She had no connection with the woman. As Mikasa walked past her-!

We are sorry.

Mikasa blinked and glanced back, but no one was there. She was gone.

(Well there you go. 96 and 19 have been asked. The rest is free game).